From Paris With Love (8 page)

June 2015

It had been difficult, the separation.  Just one week together and then nothing for two years except promises and letters.  When Odile and Jean-Luc had had a baby boy, Luc, they had asked Isabelle to stay whilst Odile was on maternity leave.  Her parents had reluctantly allowed her, appreciating the benefit it would bring to her French language studies.  So she travelled to Paris for another week.  This time she went alone as Christina had other things going on and a boyfriend she didn’t want to leave. 

She and Etienne had one more week together.  Just seven days in which they recaptured the romance, the love, the hopes, the dreams to make enough memories to last another year. The previous two years of emptiness without each other were over.  One week was all it took to forget.  A little older, a little wiser, Isabelle had learned to love more deeply than before.  This was no longer some schoolgirl crush, this was love!

Then when she had finished college, she had moved to Paris.  At the age of twenty, she had found a garret on the fifth floor of an ancient building in the 9e arrondissement of Paris.  She had found a job as a bi-lingual secretary in an American solicitor’s office and begun to live her dream.

Her garret was old and shabby, the living space small, but she had been delighted with it.  Mostly because it wasn’t far from her beloved Montmartre.  Every Sunday morning she would begin the day with a croissant from the local boulangerie on the rue Lafayette, dunking it in a large bowl of hot chocolate.  Just as she had learned to do when she stayed with Jean-Luc and Odile.  Then she would walk through the cobbled streets, along the rue des Martyrs from which she could glimpse the white dome of the Sacré Coeur.  She used to climb the many steps winding up to the cathedral.  She had counted them on more than one occasion – there were over 300, although the exact number escaped her now.   She would wander around the Place du Tertre.  She knew several of the artists and vendors, exchanging ‘bonjour’ with them as she went.  As autumn had drifted into winter, many of the tourists had abandoned the city sights, leaving Montmartre to Isabelle.  She never tired of her Sunday mornings, chatting to the artists, admiring their work on the easels and browsing the souvenir shops.  Often she would enter the hallowed space of the Sacré Coeur, to light a candle or simply to sit and contemplate.  Quite often on a Sunday afternoon she would visit the Left Bank, stroll along the Quai or wander across to the Marche aux Fleurs on the Ile de la Cite, recalling the first visit on a September day three years previously.

And of course, Etienne was also in Paris.  After such a long separation, three years had passed since they had first met, it was strange to have a near-normal relationship without the intensity of knowing time was short.  They had both matured with the years and their relationship had moved to a different level.  There was no longer any need to cram as much as possible into a short space of time.  Now they had all the time they wanted together.

Isabelle sighed as she put the letter back into its envelope and returned it to the box in its proper place.  Carefully ordered in chronological order, nearly a year had passed now since her first week in Paris.  The first year of letters.  The frequency of the letters hadn’t slowed; nor had the intensity of the emotion lapsed.  The ability to chat to each other of every-day life in which neither had the opportunity to participate in the other, kept them going through the months of separation.

The address on the envelopes had changed now.  She had moved to London to college where she was studying to become a bi-lingual secretary and fulfil her plan to move to Paris.  She lived in a hostel with 48 other girls, all at various colleges. The post was always put out on a table on the landing and Isabelle would come flying down the stairs, anxious to see if the familiar blue envelope with prominent black ink would be there. 

How her first trip to Paris had changed her and shaped the course of her life!  She had chosen not to go university, although her parents had been very disappointed telling her she would regret it later in life. Isabelle remained firm.  She had chosen her direction, knew what she wanted to do and was determined to fulfil her dreams.

Isabelle took out the next blue envelope and made herself comfortable in her seat.  She sipped her coffee and drew the next letter out to read … again …

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

September 1980

“Isabelle, telephone for you!” called Odile.  Isabelle hurried out of the bedroom, her hairbrush in one hand and a clip in the other.  It was still early and she wondered who would be calling her. 

She took the receiver that Odile held out for her and answered in English, “Hello?”

“Allo ma belle,” replied Etienne.  And Isabelle could hear the smile in his voice as he spoke to her.  “And how are you this morning?  I hope I have not telephoned too early?”

Slighty flustered and slightly breathless, Isabelle answered,”not too early.  And it’s lovely to hear from you.  How are you?”

“I am well and I wanted to make sure you were free later so that I can take you into Paris?  You remember we talked about it earlier in the week?”

“I remember!”

“I will come and pick you up about half past two, after lunch.  Will that be okay?”

“I’m sure that’s fine.  I must check with Odile though.”  Isabelle looked across at Odile who was obviously fully aware of the plans and beamed across at her.

“That’s fine with Odile.  I shall look forward to it!”

“A bientot, alors!”  Softly he replaced the receiver and Isabelle stood with the phone still in her hand, staring dreamily into space.

“So, Isabelle,” Odile interrupted her thoughts.  “This afternoon and this evening you will be going out with Etienne?”  She turned to Christina who looked back expectantly.

“So Christina.  It is you and me.  Shall we go shopping?” she asked

Christina beamed at her.  “Can we go to the Galeries Lafayettes?  And the other big stores?”

“Mais oui, bien sur!” replied Odile. “We will go by train so we do not have to worry about parking the car and we will spend the afternoon shopping together. “

“That sounds brilliant,” sighed Christina. 

Isabelle breathed a sigh of relief.  She was so pleased that Christina and Odile had hit it off so well.  She was also amazed that they managed to understand each other, as Christina’s grasp of the French language wasn’t brilliant and Odile’s knowledge of England was virtually non-existent.

What should she wear? She wondered.  She thought about the cream dress and instantly dismissed it.  She’d worn it for the party and it would probably be too dressy anyway.  What about jeans, she mused.  Too casual.  Then she thought about the new outfit she’d bought just before leaving and which she hadn’t yet worn.  It was a loose shirt and matching straight skirt with brightly coloured sailboats against a white background.  It would be perfect!

She glanced at her watch.  Only half past eight – another six hours to go until Etienne collected her!

She joined Odile and Christina in the kitchen and absent-mindedly took a piece of grilled baguette, spread some butter on it and started munching on it. 

“So this morning, I have to go to the supermarket,” said Odile, interrupting Isabelle’s thoughts and bringing her back to the present and the kitchen.  “Do you want to come with me?  Or you can stay here if you prefer?”

“No, we will come with you, won’t we, Isabelle?” Christina prodded her sister.  “Wake up dreamy!  I’ve just said we’ll go to the supermarket and help Odile with the shopping, OK?”

Isabelle nodded and finishing her bread, she quickly knocked back her bowl of hot chocolate, aware that the other two had finished and she was keeping everyone waiting.

The morning seemed to pass so slowly for Isabelle.  Before going to the supermarket, they had stopped in to see Odile’s parents, who were going away for a long weekend.  They had been made very welcome, although this time Isabelle had made a point of refusing the coffee and had stuck to the lemonade like Christina.  It seemed odd to be in Etienne’s home without him being there, she thought. 

The next stop was the supermarket where Odile loaded the trolley with fruit, vegetables, a chicken, some pork, some cold meats, cheese, milk, bread and of course more wine.  Back at the apartment, they unpacked the shopping helping to put it away.  Christina set the table for lunch and Isabelle helped Odile to prepare the food. 

Bang on time, Jean-Luc breezed in, the door banging closed behind him.  As always, he seemed to be in a hurry.  He greeted Odile with a hearty kiss on the cheek and smiled at both girls.

“So what have you been doing today?” he asked as he poured a glass of wine for himself and water for the others.

They told him about their morning and tucked into the fish that Odile had prepared for lunch.  It was delicious, just like everything else she made.

“And what do you plan to do this afternoon?” asked Jean-Luc.

“Odile and I are going into Paris to the shops, the Galeries Lafayettes,” announced Christina.

“Ah, very good.  You will enjoy that – very expensive, but lovely to look around!  And you, Isabelle, what are you doing?”  The glint in his eyes suggested that he already knew her plans, but he said nothing.

“Etienne is picking me and we’re going into Paris,” replied Isabelle, feeling a blush creeping into her cheeks.

“So you will be having a romantic afternoon with my brother!” chuckled Jean-Luc.  “Enjoy yourselves, girls.  For me, I have to go back to work now.”  He got up, tucked his chair back under the table, gave Odile a kiss and was gone, the front door banging closed as he went.

Christina cleared the table whilst Isabelle washed and dried the dishes.  They had insisted that Odile had a rest for a few minutes whilst they cleared up. 

“I was thinking of wearing my new outfit this afternoon,” said Isabelle to Christina.  “Do you think it will be okay?”

“Which one?” asked Christina, looking baffled.  “Do you mean the shirt you bought this week?”

“No, not that.  The new outfit with the sailboats on.  You know the one I mean?”

Christina nodded.  “I think it will be perfect.  What do you think you’ll be doing?” she asked.  “It’s so exciting isn’t it?”

Isabelle nodded.  “I’m not sure.  He did say something about going into Paris and the boats.  I really don’t know though.”

“Are you going out to dinner too?” asked Christina.

“I don’t know,” frowned Isabelle.  She hadn’t really thought about that. To be honest, she hadn’t got past thinking how special it would be to spend the afternoon with him, just the two of them.

“I guess you’ll just have to wait and see,” shrugged Christina pragmatically.  “Mind you, I want to hear about everything you two do when you get back.  And I mean everything!” she winked at Isabelle who promptly blushed again.

At half past two Isabelle was ready, waiting impatiently when the doorbell rang.  Odile answered the door to Etienne who greeted her, kissing her on both cheeks, and looking past her to see Isabelle.

As he caught sight of her, he let out a soft whistle.  “Chouet” he said.  “Very pretty!”

She blushed again at his compliment, thinking he didn’t look bad himself in his smart black jeans and open-neck white shirt.  Very French, very Gallic and very good-looking.

He kissed her on the cheek, “Come Isabelle, let us go out and explore Paris together!”

Isabelle grabbed her cardigan and bag, shoved her shoes on and waving goodbye to Christina and Odile, she followed Etienne down to his car.

He held open the passenger door for her and she slid into the front seat, feeling a thrill rush through her.  This was so very grown-up and exciting – going out on a date in Paris with a Frenchman!

Etienne jumped into the driver’s seat, fastened his belt and before starting the engine, he leaned across to Isabelle kissing her thoroughly and taking her by surprise.

“This afternoon, ma Belle, it is just you and I and Paris.  We will have a wonderful time, non?”

“Definitely,” agreed Isabelle catching her breath and wondering if she was ever going to wake up from this amazing dream.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

September 1980

Etienne drove swiftly, deftly weaving through the Parisian traffic.  Bob Marley played on the cassette player and Etienne hummed along.  The sun streamed through the open windows and Isabelle glanced across at Etienne, his arm resting on the open window, his hand on the steering wheel.  She thought how good-looking he was and how lucky she was.  He sensed her staring at him and turned to smile at her.  Taking his hand from the gear lever, he reached for hers as his eyes turned back to the road.

“I am going to enjoy this afternoon with you Isabelle.  Just you and me.  And Paris," he smiled at her.

“And now for our first stop – the Bois de Vincennes!”

Etienne parked the car along a tree-lined road.  He got out and reached into the back of the car to grab a blanket and a wicker basket.  He took Isabelle’s hand in his and together they strolled through the huge park.

“There are two very famous parks in Paris,” explained Etienne.  “They are like the two lungs of Paris. Green spaces where you can escape the traffic, the noise, the pollution of the city. One on the East side and one on the West.  The one to the West is the Bois de Boulogne, it is perhaps the most famous and definitely the most visited, although it is slightly smaller.  This one is on the East side.  It is the Bois de Vincennes.  I actually prefer it.  There are fewer tourists here.”

“I’ve heard of the Bois de Boulogne, but not the Bois de Vincennes,” replied Isabelle.  “What is special about it?”

“Well, it is named after the chateau de Vincennes and was once part of an ancient forest surrounding a Roman town.  The first castle was built around 800 years ago although that has been replaced by a palace. During the War it became the headquarters of the French Army and was badly damaged.  Sadly now it is neglected and ruined.  One day I hope they will repair it.

“Over the years, there has been a prison, a palace, a horse-racing track and a military training ground based here.  There are many different gardens here, I think there is even an English garden for you! In 1900 a lot of the Olympic sports were held here.  And of course the Paris zoo is here too.”

“It seems huge,” noted Isabelle, looking around her at the endless green and long avenues of trees.

“It is very big.  I think they say it is over twice the size of Central Park in New York.”

“It seems pretty,” she commented.

“My favourite part is around the Lac Daumesnil.  There are four lakes and the Lac Daumesnil is the largest.  Come, we will walk there.” Etienne took her hand and led her through the trees.  “I don’t come here that often, so I hope I can find it.  It is very special and I think you will like it!”

After wending their way through the wide avenues of trees, they found a path that led down to the lake.  Isabelle gasped at the sight in front of her.  Across the still grey water, an island emerged with a small circular building, like a temple, perched above the rocky grottos.

“That is so beautiful.  What is it?” she asked, not expecting to find anything quite like it in central Paris.

“That is the Temple d’Amour” explained Etienne.  “It stands on the Isle de Reuilly above the  artificial grottos.  Look, can you see, it is connected to the other island by a bridge?”  he pointed out a black bridge in the distance to Isabelle, who nodded.

As they reached a clearing, he spread the blanket out, set the wicker basket on it and sank down onto it. 

“I think this is a romantic setting for you?” he smiled at her.

Isabelle nodded as she sat down beside him and he pulled her into his arms.  Together they lay there for a few moments, feeling the weak dappled sunshine of early autumn through the trees.

“So, Isabelle, tell me about you.”

“What do you want to know?” she asked softly.

“I want to know everything about you.  What makes you laugh.  What makes you cry.  What is your favourite colour.  When is your favourite time of year.  So tell me!”

She laughed and lying in his arms, she began.

“My favourite colour is yellow.  Although I also love red, particularly in the winter.  I love all seasons.  Christmas is my favourite holiday because it’s a time when everyone celebrates and has fun together.  I love snow, but I also love the sunshine.  I’m not sure I have a favourite season as I think there’s something special about every season.”  She paused for a moment, as though wondering whether to share something with him.

“You won’t laugh if I tell you my thoughts about the year?” she asked.

“Of course I won’t laugh,” he said.  “Unless it’s funny,” he winked.

“Okay, so I think that New Year’s Eve is when the old year dies like an old man dying and a new year begins like a baby being born.  As January goes into February, the baby is beginning to grow.  Spring is childhood and adolescence.  It’s a time for new beginnings, for growing, exploring and learning.  Summer is about the beginning of maturity, a time of sunshine, happiness and love.  As Autumn comes, aging begins and as the trees lose their leaves, the man is beginning to get older and wiser.  As Winter begins around November, the old man is getting tired and is ready to leave at the end of December.”  She was silent for a moment.  “At least that’s my way of looking at it and I think there’s something special about every age and every season.”  She looked at Etienne for his reaction.  She had never shared that thought with anyone before.

“I think it is a special way to think about life and the year.  I will always remember that,” he smiled at her.  “Now tell me more about you.”

“Okay, I like to play the piano.  I love reading bookings – all sorts of books. I love the sea, walking along the beach and watching the sunset. I hate politics, it’s boring.  I don’t really like watching television, although some films are good.  I love to listen to music.  I like going out with friends and parties, but not all the time.  I also like being alone sometimes.  Family is important to me.”  She paused.  “Now, your turn.”

“My favourite colour is blue, although I never wear blue.  My favourite place is Normandy because I love the sea, like you. Although I also love the mountains and I like skiing.  I haven’t been able to ski since the accident but I hope to again one day.  I think Paris is a beautiful city, but one day I want to move away and live in the countryside or by the seaside.  I want to get married and have children one day, not yet.  I think life is too short to spend at work all the time.  I like music and going to concerts.  I don’t really like reading very much.  I’m not interested in politics either although I like to know what is going on in the world and I watch the news on television.  I like going out with friends although I also like to spend time alone, I think it is important.”

For a few moments they lay comfortably in silence.

“So now, tell me, what makes you laugh and what makes you cry?” asked Etienne.

“What makes me laugh,” mused Isabelle.  “I guess good jokes and amusing stories make me laugh, things that are genuinely funny.  I don’t like comedians very much, I don’t usually find them funny.  I think children make me laugh sometimes, they do such strange things and they are so innocent.  Having fun with friends makes me laugh too.”

She thought for a moment.  “The things that make me cry – that’s harder.  I don’t like it when people are unkind to animals, or young children.  They take advantage and that’s cruel.  Sad stories and films make me cry sometimes.  I think leaving you will make me cry too,” she added softly.

“You should not cry for something that is so special,” said Etienne.  “You should only cry for the things you cannot have or those you have lost.  You will not be losing me.”

She nodded.  “Your turn.”

“I like comedies, jokes, funny stories, funny people.  I like to laugh, I think it’s important.  In life it is too easy to be sad.  And losing people makes me cry, realising you will never see them again or talk to them.  I think that is very sad and very difficult” he added softly.  And Isabelle knew he was thinking about the girlfriend he had lost.  She squeezed his hand gently.

For a few moments, they lay there in each other’s arms quietly.  Then Etienne sat up and reached into the wicker basket.

“Now I know that in England you have teatime which means that around 4 o’clock you drink tea and you eat cake.”

“Well, sometimes, yes,” admitted Isabelle.  “How did you know that?”

“I asked a friend who has an English friend.  And I thought we would have an English tea!”

He produced two cups from the basket, a flask, two pastries and two serviettes.

“Voila! English tea,” he said with a flourish as he poured the contents of the flask into the two cups and handed one to Isabelle.  “Cheers!”

Isabelle took the cup and peered in at the dark liquid.  She laughed.

Etienne looked puzzled.  “Why are you laughing?  It is tea n’est-ce pas?”

“Well, yes, it is tea,” she wasn’t quite sure how to tell him.

“But?” he prompted.

“We normally drink tea with milk,” she laughed.

“With milk?” he looked horrified.  “But when we drink tea, which isn’t often, we do not have milk in it!”

She sipped the tea and grimaced inwardly.  “It’s delicious!  I will make sure to drink tea black and with no milk in future!” she announced.

He looked pleased and sipped in his own tea, quite obviously wishing it was coffee.  He passed her a pastry and she bit into it.  Delicious, the French certainly knew how to make pastries, she thought.

“This is lovely, Etienne,” she said and she meant it, thinking of the effort he had gone to for her.

When the pastries were eaten and the tea finished, they packed everything away in the wicker basket.

“Come, you are chilly,” noticed Etienne.  “It is getting colder.  Autumn is here.”  Isabelle felt a shiver run through her and realised it was less to do with the cold air and more to do with the short amount of time they had left.  Like Autumn and her old man, time was running out for them.  They got to their feet, folded the blanket and made their way back through the park to where they had left the car.

“And now we will continue to our next stop,” said Etienne.  “It is a surprise” he stated seeing the unspoken question in Isabelle’s eyes.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~